| We already know that children
learn more by what they see us do than what they
hear us tell them they ought to do. This powerful
and touching story gives a dramatic example of
just that. The
Envelope
Submitted by Patti Crist
It's just a
small, white envelope stuck among the branches of
our Christmas tree. No name, no identification,
no inscription. It has peeked through the
branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so.
It all began because my husband Mike hated
Christmas - oh, not the true meaning of
Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it -
overspending, the frantic running around at the
last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the
dusting powder for Grandma - the gifts given in
desperation because you couldn't think of
anything else.
Knowing he felt
this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual
shirts,sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for
something special just for Mike.
The inspiration
came in an unusual way. Our son Kevin, who was 12
that year, was wrestling at the junior level at
the school he attended; and shortly before
Christmas, there was a non-league match against a
team sponsored by an inner-city church, mostly
black.
These
youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that
shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding
them together, presented a sharp contrast to our
boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and
sparkling new wrestling shoes.
As the match
began, I was alarmed to see that the other team
was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light
helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears. It
was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not
afford. Well, we ended up walloping them. We took
every weight class. And as each of their boys got
up from the mat, he swaggered around in his
tatters with false bravado, a kind of street
pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat.
Mike, seated
beside me, shook his head sadly, "I wish
just one of them could have won," he said.
"They have a lot of potential, but losing
like this could take the heart right out of
them."
|
Mike loved kids - all kids - and
he knew them, having coached little league
football, baseball and lacrosse. That's when the
idea for his present came. That afternoon, I went
to a local sporting goods store and bought an
assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and
sent them anonymously to the inner-city church.
On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the
tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had
done and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the
brightest thing about Christmas that year and in
succeeding years. For each Christmas, I followed
the tradition - one year sending a group of
mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game,
another year a check to a pair of elderly
brothers whose home had burned to the ground the
week before Christmas, and on and on.
The envelope
became the highlight of our Christmas. It was
always the last thing opened on Christmas morning
and our children, ignoring their new toys, would
stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad
lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its
contents. As the children grew, the toys gave way
to more practical presents, but the envelope
never lost its allure.
The story
doesn't end there. You see, we lost Mike last
year due to dreaded cancer. When Christmas rolled
around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I
barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found
me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the
morning, it was joined by three more. Each of our
children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed
an envelope on the tree for their dad.
The tradition
has grown and someday will expand even further
with our grandchildren standing round the tree
with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their
fathers take down the envelope...
Mike's spirit,
like the Christmas spirit, will always be with
us. May we all remember the Christmas spirit this
year and always.
Author unknown
|
Teach Your Children
Well - A Silent Lesson